The Gran Colombia was one of the most ambitious political experiments of 19th-century Latin America. Born after independence from Spanish rule, it was conceived as a vast and modern republic, destined to become a continental center of power. However, it survived barely 12 years, breaking apart under the weight of deep internal tensions, regional clashes, and the interests of local oligarchies.
What was created as an attempt at unity following the collapse of colonial rule — as happened with the former Portuguese colonies that eventually formed Brazil — never moved beyond the vision of its main promoter, Simon Bolivar, and after he died in 1830, it gradually splintered into different national projects, often in conflict with one another.
More than two centuries later, its name resurfaces repeatedly in the speeches of Gustavo Petro in Colombia and Nicolas Maduro in Venezuela, who claim that union as a symbol of sovereignty and regional integration. But that legacy is, above all, a political tool rather than an achievable project.
What was ‘Gran Colombia’ and why do Petro and Maduro want it back?
With independence practically secured after the Battle of Boyaca in 1819, Simon Bolivar pushed forward an ambitious project of state organization. Gran Colombia — the name later given by historians to what was always called “Colombia” at the time — was formally constituted at the Congress of Angostura that same year and encompassed the territories of present-day Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador, and Panama. Its political capital was initially Angostura (today Ciudad Bolivar), although it was soon moved to Bogota.
Bolivar imagined a strong and centralized state, capable of resisting external pressures — particularly from the British and U.S. empires — and of preventing the political fragmentation already beginning to emerge in other Latin American territories. Gran Colombia was meant to be the seed of a continental federation that would guarantee independence, stability, and its own place in the geopolitics of the hemisphere.
Despite its unifying rhetoric, this counterweight to European and U.S. hegemony was born fragmented. The regions that composed it had very different social, economic, and cultural realities. Venezuela, with a powerful Creole elite dedicated to agro-exporting, demanded greater autonomy from Bogota’s centralism.
Quito faced economic tensions and disputes over the political direction of the new state. Bogota, home to the presidency and most of the bureaucracy, defended a centralist model that clashed with regional interests and ultimately shattered Bolívar’s vision.
These differences made the construction of stable institutions difficult. There were disagreements over the form of government — federalism or centralism — over the distribution of military power, and over how to collect and manage resources. The immense territory, with poor communications and extremely strong local authorities, made effective governance nearly impossible. Until Bolivar was removed from power in May 1830, dying in Santa Marta on his way to exile a few months later.
The role of regional oligarchies in the breakup
Traditional narratives often attribute the dissolution of Gran Colombia to the “ambition” or “rivalry” of its leaders. But the real engine of the breakup was the clash between regional oligarchies that saw their economic interests and political control threatened.
In Venezuela, the mantuano elite deeply distrusted Bogota’s central power. Vice President Francisco de Paula Santander and Bolivar himself represented models of the state that clashed with the Venezuelan federalist vision promoted by Jose Antonio Paez. Tensions culminated in the Cosiata (1826), an explicit beginning of the Venezuelan separatist movement.
In Quito, Creole elites demanded greater participation in national decision-making, especially in fiscal and military matters. Geographic distance, combined with the unequal distribution of positions in the central government, fueled discontent.
In New Granada (territory of present-day Colombia), the ruling elite in Bogota defended a centralist model that granted it disproportionate political weight compared to the other regions. And it was precisely these dynamics driven by local interests — not just ideological differences among military or political figures — that fractured the foundations of Gran Colombia.
The Congress of Ocaña in 1828 was the point of no return. Two models clashed there: The federalism defended by Santander’s supporters and the presidential centralism promoted by Bolivar. The debates ended in rupture, and Bolivar assumed dictatorial powers in an attempt to preserve the union. He did not succeed.
Venezuela declared its independence in 1830. Ecuador would do the same shortly after. Bolivar, ill and politically defeated, resigned from the presidency that same year. He would die months later, leaving behind an unfinished dream that for decades would be interpreted more as myth than as a viable political project.
The symbolic legacy invoked today by Petro and Maduro
More than two centuries later, Gran Colombia reappears as a reference in contemporary political discourse. Both Gustavo Petro and Nicolas Maduro have claimed its legacy, but they do so for different purposes and, in both cases, with more symbolic than practical value.
For Petro, Gran Colombia is evoked as a precedent for Latin American integration and as a symbol of sovereignty against external geopolitical pressures; a form of resistance to the traditional dilemma between submitting to U.S. interests or facing the consequences of confronting them. His interpretation is historical and geostrategic: It does not aim to rebuild a supranational state, but to promote regional alliances that strengthen Latin America’s role in the international system.
Maduro uses the Bolivarian imaginary as a central part of the ideological narrative of chavismo. The myth of Bolivar — perhaps the most manipulated political figure in recent Latin American history — and of Gran Colombia serves as the foundation for his anti-hegemonic discourse against the United States and to project the idea of an unfinished mission that the “Bolivarian project” seeks to complete.
Despite these differences, both governments agree on using Gran Colombia as a symbol of unity, resistance, and sovereignty. However, the current context makes any attempt to politically revive that state impossible: National realities, economic interests, and internal tensions in each Latin American country make anything beyond conventional diplomatic cooperation unfeasible.
The truth is that the tragedy, not only of the states that once formed Gran Colombia, but of each and every Latin American and Caribbean country, is the obvious inability to seek what unites them and to overcome the logical and legitimate differences to create a space of unity that helps shape their own voice in a world of great superpowers that pursue interventionism driven, naturally, by their own interests.